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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25219474">fill me with dirt.</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/parthevia/pseuds/parthevia'>parthevia</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hello Charlotte (Video Games)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, Suicide, Vomiting</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 12:21:40</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,373</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25219474</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/parthevia/pseuds/parthevia</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>in which charles eyler has nightmares, and vincent fennell has never said he loved him.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Charles Eyler/Vincent Fennell</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>27</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>fill me with dirt.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>i have severe ocd and gave charles my routine. probably more heaven's gate than hello charlotte canon. un-beta'd, written at 6 am to cope. thanks for reading.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>whatever makes you worse.</p>
<hr/><p>charles eyler watched vincent fennell fall from the top of a building, like a lifeless, unwilling doll. where his fingers were once intertwined with frail, alien-like ones, was no longer. he would've gone with him. he would've thrown himself willingly with his idealized god, as vince was the peak of his entire life . . . when everyone else oozed their parasitic existence, there was one figure of purity, without a speck of dirt to ruin him. </p><p>he didn't, though. a scream tore through his throat that felt never-ending, but also as if it wasn't even coming out of his mouth. there was so much noise, yet none at all, occuring at the exact same time. charles eyler was screaming at the top of his lungs, keeled over on the concrete of the building's roof, profusely vomiting in-between violent, body crashing sobs. they took him in waves, taking every ounce of oxygen out of his lungs— drowning in his own uncontrollable panic, bandaged skin now coated in a thick layer of what appeared to be pen ink, when in reality, it was just his stomach acid. </p><p>he had so many things he needed to tell vincent, but the best he could give was a promise to meet in the heavenly kingdom, and charles knew that didn't exist, and he knew that the other boy probably didn't believe in it either, yet it was a mere vow that gave some sort of morbid hope for the bleak future. </p><p>yellow eyes squeezed tightly closed to pretend like the world wasn't real in that moment, he continued to lose himself. </p><p>that is, until his body stopped being numb, sensation ripping back through him in the most unpleasant possible way. there was a consistent sound, now. he could discern the noises whirring through his cluttered brain. </p><p>and he felt dirty. </p><p>disgusting, even. </p><p>"Charles," came a rasped, yet calm, tone, accompanied with a hand on the small of his back on the sweat-drenched t-shirt. "Breathe." the scent of bile interrupted his thoughts, and when he reopened his eyes, the world was pitch black. </p><p>but it occurred to him. </p><p>this wasn't a rooftop. there was no hard concrete beneath his weakened knees. it was rather soft, actually. </p><p>saliva dripped down the side of his chin, forming a new small pool in the freshly washed duvet. </p><p>"Charles." </p><p>. . . </p><p>"Charlie." </p><p>. . . </p><p>"Char." </p><p>he wept. the salty tears coming down even harder now, there were no germs in the moment he chose to wrap what felt like his entire frame around the figure that caused the mattress to dip next to him. </p><p>he could've choked the life out of vincent on accident with how tightly he held him, forgetting about the frailness of this . . . person. that was in front of him. in his arms. or was charles in his arms? he couldn't really tell. </p><p>it didn't matter, either. </p><p>"You are considerably lucky I keep allowing you to ruin the bed, every single night of the week, when I could simply force you to lay on the ground." </p><p>this was the fourth time this week that this dream had occurred, and that meant it in fact, was the fourth time that charles was covered in his own, pungent vomit, wrapped around vincent, unable to keep his tears down. </p><p>he choked. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'll clean it up. I'll clean it up." a muffled, terrified apology. it lurked in the back of his brain that this could cause vince to leave. that this could be the deal breaker. that charles was helpless and he needed to leave. </p><p>thin, nearly skeletal arms were gentled placed on his waist, though. there was no anger on vincent's sickly features, only concern filling his calm eyes. </p><p>"Did it happen to be the same dream as the others?" </p><p>he only got a nod into his shoulder as a response, because charles had trouble admitting that vincent was all he could ever think about. </p><p>"Strange. You still do your routine nightly. You never miss a step." </p><p>charles had a simple order of things he needed to do things in to ensure that in the morning, nothing bad would occur over night. he would check the locked door four times periodically throughout the night, whenever it popped in his brain to do so, to ensure their apartment would remain safe. he would say goodnight to their cat twice, or four times, if he said it three times on accident. he would wash his hands and wash his hands and wash his hands and wash his hands before putting them anywhere near his vince, because if even one speck of dirt invaded that perfect entity, he knew vincent would fall ill and die. he'd say goodnight twice. </p><p>they never missed a step, because he couldn't even fathom resting if one had gone undone. </p><p>"Everytime you just let go of my hand and drop off the side of the building." </p><p>"I am aware of the dream."</p><p>he always sounded so cold. </p><p>charles detached himself to change his clothes. he didn't let vincent see him undressed, despite their five years together. excusing to the restroom, the lights remained off, and he stripped off the sweaty, vomit soaked night clothing, to replace it with a similar, but different set. he brushed his teeth, making himself gag twice on the toothbrush each cycle he brushed. one time, two times. if he didn't, his teeth would surely be rotting out of his head by the morning. </p><p>when he emerged, the wet bedding was already removed by a tired vince, who had stuffed them in a white trash bag to take to the laundromat later. there was no replacement sheet on the mattress, only a light fleece blanket. he was seated, the glow of the moonlight reflecting off of his grey hair through the window. </p><p>"I will make the bed in the morning. Come here." </p><p>and so he did. charles wasted no time in rewrapping himself around his freshly dressed partner, angular nose pressed directly against the cool expanse of his pale neck. he swore he felt vince shiver beneath the touch. but he got a response, vincent's hand searching for his own, squeezing them together. </p><p>they had learned new forms of comfort over the years, but this remained the most important. hand holding. </p><p>"I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you." charles gasped out, hotness rising back to his face, fearing that he'd begin crying once again. </p><p>they had been together for so long, but vincent never responded to the declarations of love. it stung, occasionally, but charles had long since accepted that's just how his partner was. if he never heard it said back in his lifetime, it'd probably be okay with him, because at the very least, vince would know that someone did love him. </p><p>the room fell deafeningly silent. </p><p>the gentle whirl of the ceiling fan was all to be had, and charles felt at ease, for once. this was where he belonged. </p><p>but vincent's pulse quickened, and charles could feel this through their right embrace. his heartbeat was breaking the comfortable quiet. </p><p>a whisper. "Charles," he managed. </p><p>suddenly, it all came crashing. he tried to hide his inner anxiety, but it all tasted like bile in his throat once again. vincent was going to tell him he didn't love him. that he needed to stop saying it. that this wasn't what charles thought it was. or even worse, that vincent was going to leave, now. </p><p>it felt like an eternity, in waiting for vincent to continue his gesture. a moment of bliss had turned into somehow even worse than his repetitive nightmare from earlier, but he wouldn't dare interrupt the boy's train of thought. </p><p>"I love you, too." </p><p>another pregnant pause. </p><p>"You know, you don't have to say things to try and make me feel better." hurt tinged his voice, unable to properly hide the feeling. </p><p>and vincent understood. he pulled away from charles who had loosened his grip in their hug, and with frail hands, cupped his embarrassed, heated cheeks, forcibly making their eye contact direct without a choice. </p><p>"Charles Eyler, I love you. Please don't doubt me." </p><p>. . . </p><p>"I love you more than you'll ever know, Vincent Fennell." </p>
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